


There Are Scars That Will Never Go Away

by Overgrown_Mind



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Confessions, Emotions, F/M, Goodbyes, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Running Away, Semi-unrequited love, obligations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 07:09:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18441569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overgrown_Mind/pseuds/Overgrown_Mind
Summary: Science was easier to process, a more regular constant than the tribulations of life and emotion.





	There Are Scars That Will Never Go Away

A knock on the door. She’s already standing close by, knowing the hour and time prevents it from being anyone else. She knows exactly who is standing just beyond the threshold, what they intend to do that night. Ignorance would have kept her safe, not matter how false the sense was. Her heart is already writhing in agony from the wounds not yet inflicted. If she hadn’t known, if he hadn’t told her, the blind side may have been better than the internalized trauma. She can almost hear the metallic graze as he places his hand against the other side of the door.

“Angela.”

Every thought hushes at the whisper of her name. Every consequence, every fear, and every pain subsides to the need of him - _to be with him-_ if only for a moment. The door slides open at her command, and she forces what she can of a smile onto her aching cheeks. His expression is soft, and it almost breaks her will. The sense of resolve titters on a string as he steps into the room with a duffel bag across his shoulders.

She shifts back towards her desk and watches him set his belongings down by one of the leather seats in her office. Numbers and medical processes are almost palpable before her eyes concerning the body she had crafted for him. The tensing of muscle here, the synthetic skin stretching there. Science was easier to process, a more regular constant than the tribulations of life and emotion.

Her gaze finally falls onto his face. There are scars that will never go away. Results of wounds inflicted by those he had loved and trusted before. Those were the wounds she had met him with, a soul bathed in crimson and tittering between life and the ever-calling void. She had saved his life. Days of surgery and even longer weeks of tension as infections and bodily rejection kept the healing process slow. But he had pulled through despite all the odds against him, when even she was unsure if her attempts of resurrection would be what the man wanted.

His newly green eyes seem to glow brighter in the dim lighting of her office. Enraptured by him observing her, she nearly forgets to breath until he offers his hand. Her heart pounds in her ears, and she forces herself to go over every process, every piece, every possible input that allows the cybernetic to operate as if they were flesh and bone. In almost every way, it was better than anything solely human, but they didn’t stop the war that raged in the man that possessed them. Her hand meets his before he could pull away.

He draws her closer. Close enough to lose her head in his presence. She presses into an embrace. He responds in time. The ache in her chest is ignored, overlooking his hesitation to drink in any physical connection. Metal fingers feather across the back her neck, twisting and playing with her hair.

“Come with me.”

Tears nearly escape her. This was the dance they were forced to perform. He spoke his offer as if stating the color of the sky. No conviction, mere pleasantry. She exhales against his chest at the bittersweet taste.

“I can’t.”

The words burn her tongue in a self-inflicting curse. He lets the ghost of a chuckle rumble the back of his throat and presses his face closer to the crown of her head. Her heart screams at her bones, her very core, to accept the offer. But this play had been performed thousands of times before, and their ending would remain just as tragic. She has obligations, duties she had sacrificed too much of her life to simply abandon. It would tear her to pieces, but it was what she had chosen so long ago.

“I know.”

They stand there for a tiny eternity, simply beings in the arms of each other. Their hearts beat in time, one of pure muscle and the other part machine. In harmony until the final moment.

The moment breaks, and she doesn’t know how long its been. She doesn’t honestly care. His hand shifts from her hair to cradle her cheek. Her eyes close as he places a distance between them. He lets the tears run across his fingers as she shudders. A confession curls in the air like a prayer.

“I love you.”

His kiss is fleeting, barely even there. He tries to placate her only to leave nightmares and longing. She won’t expel that same pain on him. They both knew he couldn’t let himself love her like she did him. Not yet. Perhaps if ever. She lets him withdraw from her, and turns her back to protect the heart in her chest. Her fingers pinch the end of the desk as she stares unseeingly at the wood.

He moves in silence, only the rustle of his bag justling the air. The distinctive click of his visor in place invokes a tremble in her shoulders. The door slides open, a whisper against her clammy skin. Every cell in her body wants her to turn around, to look at him one last time, to actually see him leave her. But the image would only haunt her more. They both know that.

“Goodbye.”

She curls forward, any strength finally leaving her. A sob rocks her foundation, quickly followed by another and another. A tempest of emotions flood her head and escape in too tiny of droplets. She finally lets herself look. The door is closed. He’s gone.

Genji had left her, and she could only feel her splintering soul shatter into smaller pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the original version almost two years ago and recently updated it so I could start getting back into posting on the internet. This was originally going to be apart of a larger genjela fic focused on Angela coming into herself, into Overwatch, her relationship with Genji, and the falling out and the eventual Recall. I might still do it someday, but as of now, have this quasi-sad prose.  
> Tell me what you like and hate. Writing is a process that I'm trying to improve at all the time, and I've been in a bit of a rut lately.


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